The Token
by sblmlny
Summary: Aurelia Iverson, a strong and good person, belongs to District 10 and is reaped for 65th Hunger Games. A spin-off on a briefly mentioned tribute.
1. Part One

**Part One**

"Aurelia Iverson!"

I freeze. My feet seem to be stuck in the same spot. I gaze helplessly up at that tiny slip of paper that has changed my life. The lilac hands holding it are manicured perfectly; long talons coloured like a sunset gracing the end of those long fingers. The paper descends and eyes framed with long pink feathers glower at me, attempting to welcome me into this madness but I see through it. I look around nervously as I realise that everybody in front of me is staring: some consoling and comforting, some relieved that it's not them, and some succeeding in masking their emotions. These are all familiar faces but I am looking at one face in particular. Nicholas.

Finally I find him, and he is gazing back at me, pained. He can't volunteer for me because he can only take the place of the boy, and we can't go in this together because it could never end well. I see in his eyes that he is urging me to move forward, because I have to. So, I step one foot in front of me, and then I do that with the other foot. I have to order myself to move in this way, and I am around halfway to the stage when my hand is grabbed, I am spun around and given a long kiss that I know will be one of the last. "I love you," he says.

I can only nod because my throat is swollen – I start to wonder if I will be able to breathe for much longer. He knows that I love him. I don't need to tell him. I look into those deep blue eyes that have always comforted me as white gloved hands pull at his shoulders, but he grips onto my hand. I mouth 'Let go'.

He does.

I step onto the stage and Urzula Torelli shoves a microphone into my face. "Hello Penelope." She greets me in that strong outlandish Capitol accent.

I manage an almost-silent 'Hi'. My escort knows she is not going to get much else out of me so she leaves me. I stare longingly at Nicholas still, wishing just for yesterday, a day when I was free. I hardly acknowledge another boy walking onto the stage. He is just shorter than me, but I am tall for a girl, and seems to be around fifteen years old. I recognize him and I suspect his name is Howard.

I am taken, whilst surrounded by Peacekeepers, to the room where I will say my final goodbyes. First, my brother and sister burst through the door and make a beeline to me to give me a huge embrace, which gives comfort in that I can share all this confusion with them. Both are older than me and have passed their reaping days. In fact, I almost had. I'm eighteen now so all I had to do was pass this year and then I could have been free of the fear.

My father is next. He kisses me on the forehead and we sit down together. His lined face tenses into familiar creases, his eyebrows furrowed in upset and in thought. "I love you, sweetie," he says. "You know how to fight so you can defend yourself. You can kill animals – you've had plenty of experience with that." This is District Ten, of which the main industry is livestock. I have helped my dad with farming the animals all my life so I know how to hunt and eat them. He also gave me lessons in self-defence as a child so I could stand up for myself. There are some areas in this district where violence seems to be the answer, and being the youngest, I have always been looked at as the innocent and vulnerable one. My father just never wanted me to get hurt. "Use your time to learn how survival skills and how to use a weapon. Maybe a knife," He orders. "You're coming back to us, you know that?" he says weakly, attempting a smile but instead presenting a grimace. A tear kick starts the threat of an outpour of emotion. I have only seen my father cry once before, just after my mother died. He seemed so helpless, and I couldn't find it in myself to comfort him, only being ten years old. I find myself in the same situation now.

"Of course I will," I lie. I know I'm not coming back. I can bet now that there is a line of tributes that are bigger and stronger and more threatening than me. I don't stand a chance.

I hug him, but he leaves soon after. I don't blame him for how he is feeling: dreading the moment when he will have to watch his youngest daughter murdered live on television, for the whole of Panem to see.

When Nicholas walks through that door I fling myself at him. He kisses me on the cheek and then pulls away. His hand is outstretched, palm up, in front of me. In the centre of that palm sits a simple wooden ball, the size of a coin.

"Take it," he says. "It means I love you."

I pick it up between my thumb and forefinger and look at it. Suddenly, a memory floods back to me. Where Nicholas and I sit in a field on a pleasant summer's day, making shapes out of the clouds and sharing our wildest dreams. We had been together for almost a year then. I gave him that wooden ball as a token of my love – it's a tradition in District Ten that you give your love a small and simple token to tell them you love them.

I have a suspicion that he knows that this is the end too. Having regained the ability to speak, I say, "I love you so much." I give him a kiss with the ball clutched in my hand. I will never let go of this. Not until my final moment.

"There's one more person that wants to see you," he whispers in my ear. He kisses my cheek and then walks out the door. I see through the gap that he has sat down, his head in his hands. I let one tear escape. I sit down on the sofa to compose myself. I can't let anybody see me this weak.

A woman, around forty-five years old, walks in. It's Aunt Imelda, my mother's sister, who has been like a mum ever since my one died. She sits down next to me and I hug her.

She strokes my hair comfortingly. "Don't be afraid of them, Aury. Don't run. Make sure you give them a lasting impression," she whispers.

When I pull away, she wears a small comforting smile.

A Peacekeeper enters to tell us our time is up. The next few moments flash by alarmingly quickly and soon I am boarding a train that will take us to the Capitol, and ultimately, to our deaths. The train is so clean, and it is filled with a sweet floral scent. I am shown to my room. There is a large bed, made up with many velvety cushions and silk sheets. There are some drawers, and I look in there to find many clothes. There is a knock on the door so I turn quickly. The head of Urzula peeks around the door, topped with a large lemon-yellow wig adorned with daisies.

"Dinner is in an hour!" she says, and then leaves, clicking the door into place behind her. All the way to the station I had kept an extremely firm grasp on that little ball. I leave it on the table and then open another door to find a shower, a bath, a toilet and a sink. Hanging up on a rail are soft white towels. I strip down and take a quick shower, washing myself thoroughly, and when I come out I choose to wear a silky purple dress, pinched in at the waist and flowing down to my knees. I dry my short brown hair with a strange contraption, resembling a gun but blowing out hot air instead of bullets.

I nervously walk down the hallway to what must be the dining room. I am given some minced beef mixed with vegetables and topped with slices of something I don't recognize. There is a sauce on top that is creamy and cheesy, balancing out the rich beef. The vegetables with it are served with herbs and garlic. The whole dish is the most delicious thing I have ever tasted. I drink some juice that tastes like apples, and I ponder on how the juice could possibly come out of an apple.

I talk to my mentors. The woman is called Melanie, around twenty-five years old, with long brown hair and big eyes, who I remember watching when I was eight. The man, Grant, is about forty, and must have won the Games before I was born. They tell us about what to expect in the Capitol: crazy people in strange fashions intrigued by us, and we will be preened and groomed as soon as we get there for the opening ceremony. They tell us that it won't be pleasant.

I look over at Howard, who is still eating, and he looks down at his plate. He seems to be listening though, because sometimes his face shows a reaction to what the mentors are saying.

"Can I… read books?" I ask. "I mean survival books? Do you have any of those?"

"Yes, I'm sure we can find you some, Aurelia," says Melanie encouragingly.

Grant says to both of us, "If there's anything you need, just ask."

I nod. Conversation continues, and every so often I ask a question about what's going to happen and about basic survival tips. We watch the rest of the reapings on a big TV attached to the wall, and the tributes are what I had been expecting. From Districts 1, 2 and 4 there are huge volunteer tributes who have been waiting for the moment their whole life. However, the boy with bronze hair and sea green eyes from District 4 looks big and strong, but there is a fear in his eyes that makes me suspect that he does not want to be fighting for his life in the games. There are two twelve year olds, one boy and one girl, from Districts 6 and 8, and the rest are average-looking children, fraught with fear and dreading the next few weeks.

Soon I leave for my room, and I change into a nightgown and climb into the mass of material that makes up my bed. However, I can't sleep. I keep thinking of my father crying, and Nicholas breaking down outside that door. I keep thinking over what Imelda said. _Don't be afraid of them, Aury. Don't run. Make sure you give them a lasting impression. _Imelda has never had a violent nature and has never been confrontational like this so it seems unusual for her to say such a thing. Surely she should be telling me to run? I am not going to be able to fight off huge career tributes with swords and knives and spears so my only idea is to run. Run until I can't be found.

However, 'a lasting impression' seems to make sense. The only way I can get sponsors is if I make the audience remember me. Those silver parachutes can be the difference between life and death.

I imagine Nicholas lying next to me right now, and it gives me comfort. This is the only thing I find that sends me to sleep.

The next morning, I change into a skirt and shirt and slip my ball into my pocket, and soon we have arrived at the station of the Capitol. There are so many flashes of cameras and it is extremely overwhelming. The next thing I know, I have been sent to the Remake Centre, to be plucked like a chicken. I close my eyes for most of the experience, keeping the token of Nicholas' love safe in my hand. The next time I open them, I stand naked in front of a woman that gives off a pearlescent glow and has pointed ears that remind me of a pixie that you see in a storybook. She holds her hand out. "Hello, I am Nerissa. I am your stylist." She has a strong Capitol accent.

I shake her hand, and as I look into her eyes, I see they are a shimmery silver colour. She doesn't waste any more time and dresses me in a floor-length white dress, layered and flowing, splotched with black, resembling a cow hide. I don't make any comment, but the only thing I can think of in my head is 'at least I'm not naked'. My hair is tamed into bouncy curls, and then sprayed with something that shimmers. On top of my head, there is a garish head dress. It is large, and has strange gold spirals twirling out in various directions, and the main part is a large cow-patterned fan, tilted slightly on my head. I am doubtful, but when I look in the mirror I look like some other strange alien person. My make-up has been applied to perfection: exaggerating my eyes and plumping my lips, chiseling out cheekbones and erasing imperfections. I smile at my stylist. "Thank you, Nerissa. This is great." She smiles and then leads me downstairs where I meet with Howard and we both step onto the chariot.

My stomach churns nervously. I have never been good in front of people, and I'm not sure it will be much better if they are screaming and being excitable. Either way, I wave at the sea of unusual and distorted Capitol faces. I look around, relieved that my outfit isn't too strange compared with the others.


	2. Part Two

**Part Two**

I am astounded by the whole floor District ten have. My room is huge, and I can order food whenever I want. You can sink into the armchairs and there are huge windows looking over the skyline of the Capitol.

On the morning of the first of the three days of training, we talk tactics. I tell Melanie and Grant that I can do hand-to-hand combat. They tell me I can do that for when I am put in front of the Gamemakers, but I have to appear weak when with the other tributes. I decide I will take my father's advice and practise with another weapon, like a knife. Howard says that he doesn't have anything that he is good at.

Just before we go down to the gymnasium, Melanie hands me a pile of survival guides. I thank her and set them down in my room.

So, for those three days I keep to myself. I learn some skills with a knife and practise throwing with them so I can throw on target almost every time. I feel proud of myself for that tiny achievement, but I am known as being a very determined person so if I want to get something right, and I don't stop until I can do it. I sit and learn different plants and how to gather fruit and vegetables. I tie knots and I learn how to make a shelter. By the end of our training time on the third day, I feel slightly more prepared.

However, I start to question why I am doing this. Is this really what I want? To kill other children for my own chance at living? I only have two more nights before I enter the arena and become something I've never wanted to become. Maybe it's not necessary to do this. I don't have to kill anybody. I don't have to participate in this monstrosity.

It's time for me to enter the gymnasium and attempt to impress the Gamemakers. What should I do? Should I try my hardest? Or just give up now?

I walk through the doors. "Aurelia Iverson, District Ten," I say to the Gamemakers.

I pick up a knife and throw it at a target. It almost hits the bullseye. I try again. Once more, and it hits dead in the middle. The practise has paid off. I shadow-box, showing my power and my agility in my kicks and punches. I leave.

At dinner, Melanie asks me how it went.

"Ok," I reply. "I didn't do much."

We sit down together and watch the results. Obviously, all the Careers get at least a nine, and one even gets an eleven. After waiting for what seems like an age, my picture is presented on the screen and a number seven flashes next to it. I shrug. Not too bad. I wasn't particularly memorable but I don't find much use in getting sponsors anymore. Those short thoughts before I went in gave me the realisation that I shouldn't be doing this.

The next day, I am taken by Melanie while Howard is taken by Grant to be trained for our interviews tomorrow night. Melanie and I talk for a while so she can get to know me and think of an 'angle'. I struggle to think of an angle for myself - I am not particularly interesting.

"I was going to say compassionate, after the reaping with you and your boyfriend, but that's not going to get you very far in the Games," she says, partly talking to herself.

I cringe. I completely forgot that people would have seen me and Nicholas together, and then my mind drifts to my father and I can only imagine what he was saying. Of course, Melanie is right: nobody is going to care much for a girl that cares about everything.

"I know!" Melanie exclaims. "Let's play on smart. One of your first questions was if you could read books and you seem to know what you're doing." She looks at me expectantly.

I smile. "That sounds good," I say.

She then teaches me how to answer questions well, and then we are done. However, I catch her before she leaves. She turns. "I know you can take a token into the arena," I say. I dig into my pocket and bring out my small wooden ball. It lies in my palm. "Please can I take this?"

She picks it up and smiles at me. "Of course. I'm going to have to hand it in to be inspected though - just a precaution that it's not some sort of weapon - but you should have it back by tomorrow morning."

I smile at her.

After Melanie mentioned Nicholas today, I miss him even more. I try to get some sleep. My hand feels empty without the ball there. I have gripped onto it so tightly for the past few days because it feels like the last piece of home and Nicholas with me, but now I don't have it I feel incomplete. At least I will get it back in the morning. Just thinking about home and my family makes a tear roll down my cheek. Again, I result in imagining Nicholas was here, holding me close, making sure nothing happens to me. I don't know how I'm going to deal with actually being in the arena.

The day before the The Hunger Games begin is the day of our interviews. Melanie gave me back my token, and now I feel slightly more comforted again. Nerissa and the prep team who tortured me a few days ago spend the day preening my hair (in a similar fashion to how I had it for the opening ceremonies, except two strands from either side which have been pinned back) painting my nails in a glittery silver colour, and applying masses of makeup to my face which I'm sure is unnecessary but for some reason I trust Nerissa anyway. She knows what she's doing, even if she looks like a freak show herself. She slips a glittery silver dress over me. It is strapless and cinches in at the waist, and the light fabric floats down to the floor. It's beautiful. My face doesn't look as heavily made-up as I thought it would - instead it just adds a glimmer to my features and accentuates them. I am put in some heels, and I have to practise walking in them a lot before I leave. At least I can feel confident that I won't look ridiculous. In fact, I look fantastic. I can't stop staring at my reflection.

When we do leave our floor of the Training Center, I stand next to Howard, with the District 11 tributes behind us and 9 in front of us. When we walk onto the stage, I take my seat. I still have that ball in my hand. I look down at it. For the first few interviews I am too nervous to even look up at the intimidating Capitol crowd. I don't even want to think about the cameras that are broadcasting this all over Panem, but I can't help myself. Right now, my family will be watching this. I finally pluck up the courage to look around me. There are flashes of cameras and every now and then there is laughter or applause from the audience. I don't want to think about their reactions to every death they witness on their TV screens.

Right now the District 4 boy is being interviewed, talking about his home, near the sea. He compliments the people of the Capitol often and he smiles a lot: it seems he is trying to be charming, and it is most definitely working. Caesar Flickerman asks him about his eleven. So that's who it was. I watch the rest of the tributes go up one by one, until the boy from 9 is being interviewed - I'm next. I twiddle the ball around in my fingers.

"Aurelia Iverson from District 10!" I hear Caesar introduce. The exclamation in a Capitol accent reminds me too much of Urzula. I have to stop myself from getting emotional for a second, and then I take a deep breath, stand up and make my way to the chair, waving and smiling at the crowd as I go. I greet Caesar and sit down. "Hello, Aurelia! How are you?" says Caesar.

"Hi," I say. And how am I? Apart from being sent into an arena to be killed like a lamb for slaughter tomorrow, I'm absolutely fine. "I'm fine, thanks."

"So, Aurelia, we all saw you at the reaping. With a boy!" he says jokingly, including the audience in with the joke. They laugh. "So, who was that special guy?"

"That's my boyfriend, Nicholas," I say. I know I am not making a very good impression. Easily forgettable.

"What's he like?" he asks. He is trying to help me seem a bit more interesting, which is a comfort.

I smile. "He's very caring, and just really nice. He was really upset to see me go," I tell him, as if I was confiding in a friend. All the way through I have been playing with the wooden ball.

Caesar looks down at my hand. "What's that?" he asks.

"Oh, um…" I fumble with my words now. "In District Ten, we have this thing where we give a token to our love. I gave this to Nicholas a little while ago but he gave it back to me the last time we saw each other. I like to hold onto it. It makes me feel safe and… like he's here with me."

There are a number of 'aw's emanating from the crowd. I blush.

"That's very sweet," Caesar says. He pats my hand comfortingly. "So, how have you been preparing for the Games?"

"I've been reading a lot of survival books," I say. Some of the crowd laugh.

And then my time is up.

I find it very hard to sleep that night, knowing I face the beginning of my death tomorrow. I toss and turn for hours. I cry and I scream, rolling in my bed, wishing that I wasn't here. That I am back home in District Ten, going to bed after dinner with my family, laughing with my brother and sister. I lie on the floor in fetal position, with the wooden ball in my hand and hugging a pillow close to me.

There is a knock on the door, and then I can hear somebody walking towards me.

"Aurelia?" asks Melanie, concerned. Perhaps she should be more concerned that I am about to be entered into a sick game of murder. She sits next to me, and pulls me up so I am leaning on her. She wraps her arms around me.

After around five minutes, I can compose myself enough to speak. "I want to go home," I say.

I look up at her. A tear of her own rolls down her cheek. I can only imagine what it must be like, having to coach children that are most likely only going to die, and partly because of them.

She doesn't say anything.


	3. Part Three

**Part Three**

_Don't be afraid of them, Aury. Don't run. Make sure you give them a lasting impression. _

I wake in the morning with Imelda's voice ringing in my ears. Today, I know what I am doing. I am going to make a lasting impression. I am not scared, because this path I am going to take is a hundred times better than any other. I say my goodbyes to Melanie, Grant and Urzula. I thank them for all they've done for me. They've only been trying to help me survive, after all.

I am taken to the roof and when the hovercraft appears, casting shadows over me, I climb up the ladder and some sort of force keeps me there. I almost drop my ball, but I have to keep it. I must. I am pulled up through the door, and a woman injects something into my arm. I look at her inquisitively.

"It's just a tracker," she says. "To keep track of where you are."

I nod, and am taken to my seat. I sit in complete silence. Soon the windows are blacked out - we're nearing the arena.

Peacekeepers escort me to the Launch Room. I meet Nerissa there. She dresses me in tight and stretchy brown trousers, a long white t-shirt and a black coat that looks like it would be waterproof. The tributes should be expecting heavy showers.

"How are you feeling?" Nerissa asks.

I shrug. "Ok. I just don't know what to expect," I tell her.

On the outside, Nerissa appears like an unemotional and uninteresting person. However, she gives me a long embrace. When she comes away again, she holds onto my shoulder. "I have faith in you, Aurelia."

I take a deep breath. "Thank you."

I walk to the tube which will take me up to the arena. I smile weakly at her. The corner of her mouth turns up slightly. I look up. the disc below my jolts slightly, and then ascends gracefully. There is a beam of light shining down on me and I have to squint my eyes against it. The plate stops. The first thing I see is the gold Cornucopia gleaming in the sunlight in front of me, filled with all the necessities any tribute could possibly need to survive. I turn my head around, taking in the surroundings. There are mountains all around this open space, and if I look far enough I can see a river over the hills. If this wasn't going to be a death scene, it could be quite picturesque and beautiful.

I look at the tributes. Next to me is the boy from District 4 with the bronze hair and glimmering green eyes. On the other side is a trembling girl from District 12 with dark hair and grey eyes. I can see the Careers, waiting for the gong eagerly, where they will run to the Cornucopia and begin the bloodbath.

The ball rolls in-between my fingers.

_Don't be afraid of them, Aury. Don't run. Make sure you give them a lasting impression._

I take a deep breath.

"Let the 63rd Hunger Games begin!"

The countdown starts. I have a minute. When I say this, it won't be broadcasted to Panem. They'll cut it out so nobody outside of the arena will ever hear me or what really happened. They'll probably just think it's an accident. But I will make an impression on the Gamemakers. They will know exactly what they are doing.

"I love this!" I shout to the sky. All the other tributes turn to look at me, gaping. "You sit in your comfortable little room. It must be so fun for you, orchestrating the deaths of children. I bet you go home to your families and tell them what a wonderful day you've had. Must be so interesting. But just remember, you have to live with this. This evil. You are sick. You are all sick and twisted."

I look down, ignoring the other twenty-three faces. I look at the ball in my hand. Everything seems to go in slow motion.

I watch the small wooden ball, the token of love, fall from my grasp and bounce on the disc I stand on, and drop onto the rocks.


End file.
